Save Me, I'll Save Myself
by I've Been Soniced
Summary: What happens when Jackson can't take it anymore, when being the Kanima is too hard, when he hurts the person he loves...


Jackson sat on the chair next to the bed. He stayed and listened to the monitors around him and the noise of people at work outside the door. His nose was filled with the smell of antiseptic and bleach, the smell all hospitals have. He sat and watched and stayed, he didn't want to leave, but he knew, he had done this, it was him, always him, and he didn't want to, but, it took control. He lost himself to the thing inside him, the beast, the cold-blooded killer, he could feel it coming, like a seizure, saw lights dance in front of his eyes and fought hard against it but he was too weak, always too weak, a coward, a loser, and everyone knew, saw, no matter how hard he tried to hide it.

Before, at his house, he saw his parents eating dinner and he couldn't remember where he had been. Last thing he remembered was being in class, then nothing. And now it was evening and his parents were eating and he could smell the blood on his hands he knew he had done something terrible, and he couldn't stand it any longer, he was too scared, too tired, and he hated it and himself.

He walked up to his parents told them he had something to say, he told them how he knew that he had been a bad child, he was a bad son, and he was so sorry. He wanted them to know how much he appreciated everything they gave him, how grateful he was that they had saved him from a life at an orphanage, foster home, and he told them that he was sorry he never said how much he loved them, because he did, so much, and it sacred him to think that he was adopted because he loved them so much he was afraid that one day they would stop loving him and he was so sorry, so sorry, he loved them he did and he didn't want them to ever forget, not when he was being a brat, not when he was angry, because he loved them. He cried and his parents cried and they hugged and when he left his parents wondered what had gotten into him, they hoped he would stay this way, because they did love him, so much.

Jackson sat next to the hospital bed and wondered when someone would show up, would they make him leave, would they be so angry they wouldn't be able to tell the difference between him and that thing inside him. Would they even care? Jackson didn't think so. He got up and looked into Stiles' face, bruised, but alive, long claw marks stretch from his upper neck down to his lower torso, paralyzing the boy. But that had been the day before, he didn't know, hadn't known, until today. He stretched his hand out and placed it on the boys silky short cropped hair and just ran his fingers through the downy fuzz, something he had dreamed of doing for so long, but he was scared, a coward, he was a terrible person who did terrible things and he hated himself for it. He told Stiles he was sorry, he never meant to hurt him, not ever, not at school when he would push him around and call him names, it was just easier to do that than admit…he was sorry for ever wanting that stupid bite, for turning into that thing, his hate incarnate, he was so sorry he never got to tell him how much he liked him. Stiles just lay there, in the bed, and slept. Jackson took a deep breathe and allowed the tears to run down his face, to enjoy one last thing. He wasn't scared anymore, no he knew what he had to do, something he often dreamed about but never had the courage to do, but he has it now.

He walked out into the busy hospital halls, watched the nurses and doctors and patients walk around, each busy in their own little world. No one noticed him walk up to a cabinet and take out a few bottles and a few syringes, no one noticed, why would they. Jackson found an empty bed outside the hall in the ER, in front of Stiles' room, and decided it was as good a place as any. He rested his body on it, pulled the curtains shut, and meticulously filled the syringes to their brim, five in total. He laid them across his chest and tossed the empty bottles of morphine across the bed.

He took deep breathes and wasn't afraid, not anymore, no one had saved him, no one really wanted to. Even Stiles, the person Jackson realized he loved last year, even he wanted him dead, chained him up and said that the best thing to do was to kill him, that no one would care because he was alone, and he was right. So Jackson would save himself, he picked up all five syringes and lifted them over his chest and plunged their sharp tips deep into his flesh. Jackson used his palm to push down all five plungers and felt as an icy chill coursed his body. He got cold fast, started to shiver, his body went numb, his limbs were heavy and dead, their ice, he was ice, he was frozen, waiting for true loves kiss, but it would never come…it never came. So he froze, forever, and ever, he will never awaken never know the joys of life. Breathing became harder and harder until he closed his eyes and wondered if the fires of hell will be able to melt his frozen limbs, frozen heart…

Scott brought everyone to visit Stiles, he was okay, a little beaten up, but okay. They staid and played games, Lydia held Stiles' hand, Allison made him cupcakes, and everything was okay. Mrs. McCall was there, checked up on him, ate dinner with them and their were happy. Outside a nurse saw the closed curtains around one of the beds and wondered if anyone had checked on the patient, his chart was missing, maybe they were getting tests done. She pulled the curtains apart and shouted, every one in the ER turned to her, she just backed up. She was okay, just surprised, she walked over to the patient and took his pulse, she pressed her hand over his mouth, and touched the cold flesh of the body. She noticed the hypo's sticking out of his chest obscenely and yanked them out with fast shaking hands, she doesn't know what to do. She picked up one of the bottles and her hands were shaking so hard she could barely read them. Scott's mom noticed and went out to check, she saw the body and knew who it is, one of Scott's friends, his flesh still had a bit of pink to it but was cold to the touch, she called the morgue.

Mrs. McCall turned back to her son and his friends, saw them laughing and enjoying their day, but she shouldn't have turned, Scott noticed and looked at her. She tried to cover the view but he saw, and his face fell, he stood up and walked up to her, she tried to stop him at the door, who's that, he kept saying and she pushed him and pushed him but he was too strong and he pushed her out of the way and he could see, the cold dead body of Jackson Whittemore laying in bed motionless. Allison and Lydia got up to see what Scott saw, Allison covered her mouth, and tried hard to stop the quivering of her lip and realized that she could never be a hunter, not like her family, not when these were the results. Lydia's eyes went wide, comically so, she thought she hated him, she thought she'd be happy to see him dead, she was wrong. She pushed past the others and walked up to the bed and touched his arm, cold, and his still pink face, but it was cold and clammy, and she started to shake him, it isn't funny anymore, wake up, she said and shook him harder and harder until Scott had to pull her away and she fell and she was sobbing and crying, she thought she would be happier, she thought it would be easier. What is it, what is it, called Stiles from his bed, but no one answered.


End file.
